


This Christmas, Our Christmas

by StardustAndTeacups



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Modern AU, it's just a happy lil' family, we even got a bit of slow dancing, we got mistletoe, we got presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 12:56:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17121785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StardustAndTeacups/pseuds/StardustAndTeacups
Summary: Christmas time is supposed to make you feel warm and fuzzy so here's a fic that'll hopefully do that <3





	This Christmas, Our Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Just a lil' note: I'm Danish and have only ever celebrated Danish Christmas so the traditions in this are mainly inspired by my own experiences. In Denmark, we celebrate Christmas on the 24th so rather than do a whole bunch of research and probably fail anyway I just went with what I know. It should still make sense to y'all tho ^.^
> 
> Happy Holidays to you all!

“Hey! What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Abby swats the small, sneaky hand away from the kitchen counter before it can reach the plate of cookies. “Those are for tonight, Clarke.”

The girl looks guilty - sad that she’s been caught - but quickly brightens up at the sound of the front door flying open.

“I win!”

“You cheated!”

“Don’t go inside with your shoes on!”

Three familiar voices drown out the clam Christmas music that has been playing all day and in no time the house is thrown into chaos. It’s the good kind of chaos, though, the kind the comes with having a family that is no longer just a single mother and her daughter. 

Abby drops what she was doing and hurries into the hallway with a smile, not noticing at all when her daughter grabs a cookie before following. 

“You’re supposed to count down from three and  _ then _ say go,” a ball of curly, black hair and a big, blue coat grumbles. 

Octavia hears nothing, she’s all too busy running around the living room yelling “I WON” as layer upon layer of winter clothing lands on random furniture or the floor.

_ Sorry _ , Marcus mouths when Abby’s attention returns to him after finally realising the impossibility trying to get the girl to settle down before she hurts herself - or tears the whole house down.

Abby shakes her head and tries, carefully, to cut her way through the piles of overcoats that have been discarded on the floor. 

“It’s perfect.” She wraps her arms around his neck so she can pull him down for a tender kiss. 

“Mo-om!” Clarke yells from somewhere in the living room. “Bell took my snowglobe and he won’t give it back!”

Neither Marcus nor Abby can help but laugh; it won’t be a quiet Christmas this year. But that’s a good thing. They’ve both had too many quiet Christmases in their lives.

“How about you come in and teach those kids some diplomacy and I’ll try not to burn all the food?” She’s already taking his scarf off and unbuttoning his coat, it’s not really a question.

Abby doesn’t catch all of what’s happening from her chosen spot in the kitchen (her head halfway inside the oven most of the time, triple checking that the duck isn’t being burnt) but when Marcus emerges from the living room with a satisfied - and maybe a tiny bit exhausted - smile she knows the kids are civil and more importantly distracted for now.

“You’ve got to teach me whatever it is you do to make them stop doing, well... everything all at once.”  Her hands are submerged in the sink, working hardily at the overflow of dishes that somehow manage to appear every time she tries to cook.

“A magician doesn’t reveal his tricks,” Marcus says with a smirk, stepping into her space and reaching around her from behind. “But cartoons are not to be underestimated.” He whispers the last part, his mouth so close to her ear she can feel his warm breath tickle its way across her skin. 

Chills roll down her spine and a thrill settles in her stomach.

“You just gonna stand there and be pretty or can I trouble you to grab the dishtowel, sir?”

He does as he’s told and withdraws (slightly to her own dismay) but, if only to once again prove that he is an absolute child himself at times, instead of grabbing the towel and beginning to dry the dishes he, naturally, cannot resist the temptation to twist it up and playfully lash out in her direction. 

It’s a clean hit to the back of her thighs, the sound lingering in the air for a fraction of a second. Abby gasps. The sting from the hit - there is definitely going to be a mark - fades and is replaced by a burning warmth but Abby already knows how to take her revenge.

Hands deep in the soapy water she scoops a wave of water from the sink and sends it in the direction of Marcus. That effectively stops him and his self-satisfied smirk in its way to give her another whack.

“I hope you brought a change of clothes.” Abby almost can’t hold back her giggle. He’s drenched from mid-torso to mid-thigh, his expression one of complete surprise as he stands there, dumbfounded.

“Oh, this is how we’re playing, huh?” The smirk is back on his face and before she can so much as blink he has the dish towel wrapped around her waist pulling her away from the sink. “Not as much fun when you can fight back, is it?”

He holds the towel fastened behind her like he’s captured her in a lasso, keeping her just out of reach of the sink.

Infuriating, that is what that man is, that  _ big,  _ stupid man. 

One swift movement and she is turned in his arms. “Give up yet?”

Infuriatingly, sexy. God damn that man and his smile that makes her legs feel like jelly and his muscles that just  _ had _ to be completely visible under the sticky, wet t-shirt. “Never.”

He leans in and presses a scratchy kiss to the junction of her neck. “How about now?”

“Marcus, the kids!” She tries to push him away, but no luck.

“Just say I win and I’ll stop.” He continues up her jaw, slowly.

She doesn’t want him to stop, but they should, one of the kids could walk in any time. “You’re almost as bad as Octavia.”

“Just say it.” He stops before he reached her lips, a teasing twinkle in his eye.

“Fine.”

“No, say it.” She is the head surgeon in this family, she is the one with the brains, but physically, she doesn’t stand a chance against a seasoned detective. Her 5’3” against his 6’ will never be a fair fight.

“You win,” she speaks the words begrudgingly and doesn't hold eye contact while speaking.

“I win,” he repeats. With one hand he tilts her face back to his and presses a quick kiss to her lips. “Now back to work. The kitchen doesn’t clean itself.”

She shakes her head at his silliness and her own and thanks the universe for giving her another shot at having this.

***

It’s the first time in years Abby has actually committed to cooking the whole Christmas dinner herself. It had been hard to see the point in cooking an elaborate meal to just two people, especially when her daughter had been too young to pay any real attention to anything besides the presents, but with Marcus helping her in the kitchen - a room which that man knows his way around like a natural - and three children to feed buying heat-up food is the last thing Abby wants tonight.

The whole house smells like Christmas, every room warm and lit with candles now that the world outside has fallen into darkness. The world feels soft - but maybe that’s simply because she’s curled up on the couch in front of the tv.

Clarke and Octavia are sprawled out on the carpet, their eyes glued to the screen as Jiminy Cricket, Mickey Mouse and the rest of the Disney characters dance across the screen. Bellamy has fled to join Marcus in the kitchen proclaiming that “cartoons are for children” and he’s “ _definitely_ _not_ a child anymore.”

Abby leans back and stretches her neck to try and see if Marcus needs any help with the final preparations but she knows he’s got it all under control. With the table already laid she’s free to stay right where she is.

She watches the girls more than what’s going on on the TV; both completely captivated by  _ From All of Us to All of You,  _ giggling along when Donald Duck is buried under a pile of snow and jumps out raging at his nephews. Another giggle emerges from the doorway to the living room.

She turns her head towards the sound.

Marcus, smiling, with a hand on Bellamy’s shoulder, the boy’s attention being swallowed by the Disney cartoon.

“There’s plenty of room over here,” Abby says and pats the sofa.

“Go sit down, I need to borrow Abby for a moment.” He gives the boy a light push in the direction of the still enthralled girls and looks at Abby expectantly. 

She nods toward the couch. “As I said: plenty of room.”

“Over here. I need to talk to you over here,” he says mouthing ‘ _ secrets _ ’ when he’s sure the kids aren’t looking. 

_ Ahh, _ Abby thinks with a smile, she’s always loved buying gifts and keeping secrets around Christmas time.

“You don’t want to- ” She’s about to suggest they move a bit further out of earshot from the kids but before she can finish her sentence he lifts the hand he’d been keeping behind his back since she saw him in the doorway above her head and hangs a mistletoe on a small nail right above them.

“We don’t have a nail there,” she states in all her confusion, slightly out of breath.

“You do now,” he says and leans down to kiss her. 

She can’t help the wide smile on her face.  _ What an idiot, but he’s  _ my _ idiot. _

On his lips, she tastes the red wine they’d opened while they cooked, rich and spicy, from his hands which have wound their way around her waist she feels burning heat seeping through her lower back.

Three bouts of laughter from the living room reminds them that they’re not alone. Abby remains wrapped in Marcus’ arms; it’s warm and safe here with his heartbeat right beneath her ear and his steady breathing matching hers.

“They really like it here,” Marcus says giving a small nod towards the three children spread out in front of the TV. Jiminy Cricket is singing  _ When You Wish Upon a Star _ and has an eager backing choir in Clarke and Octavia while Bellamy seemingly tries his best not to laugh. None of the kids knows the actual lyrics. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. They haven’t been talking about anything else but staying over for Christmas break for the past couple of days.”

“Well, I don’t blame them for wanting to get out of your apartment but it’s not like it’s the first time you’re all here.” Abby looks up at him, examining his face.

“I know.” He smiles briefly at her. “They like being here is all.”

Abby’s heart leaps in her chest. She’s happy that Bellamy and Octavia feel at home here, with her and Clarke.

“And I like being here, too,” he says softly and she can’t help but reach up on her tiptoe and kiss him again. 

A timer goes off in the kitchen.

“Guess it’s back to work.”

“I’m afraid so,” he says and disentangles his arms, “Shouldn’t take long though.”

She goes with him to help but there really isn’t much to do but stir the gravy so she excuses herself to go change. It’s Christmas Eve, after all, it wouldn’t be right to spend it in her sweatpants, especially not when the rest of the party have all dressed up for the occasion.

***

The table, which Abby had spent a considerable amount decorating nicely earlier in the day, is filled with empty pots and plates, a sign of a good meal finished.

“Can we put the presents under the tree now, mom?” Clarke asks, already climbing down from her chair.

“You can, but remember to be really careful,” she says and has to yell the last part before the kids disappear into the study where the gifts are kept. 

“We better clean this up so we can get to the fun part,” Marcus says with a smile.

It’s a bustle and basically an accident waiting to happen as Abby and Marcus start carrying the dishes to the kitchen all the while Octavia, Clarke, and Bellamy practically runs back and forth between the study and the living room carrying as many presents as they possibly can. The kids are still completely oblivious to the mistletoe hanging in the doorway between the living room and the hallway - Marcus? Not so much. 

Every time he passes her in the doorway he’ll block her way, refusing to move before she pays him with a kiss.  _ He’s absolutely ridiculous. _

“Can I have one like mommy?” Clarke is standing in the doorway looking between Marcus and the mistletoe as if to see if Marcus just automatically comes and kisses whoever stands in that spot. 

“Of course you can,” he says with a wide grin and picks the little girl up and kisses her cheek. 

“Your beard is scratchy!” She squeals so he kisses her other cheek loudly before he lets her go. 

Abby laughs coming out of the kitchen to observe the shenanigans.

“My turn daddy! My turn!” Octavia puts down the present she is holding very carefully while keeping eye contact with Marcus to make sure she’s doing it right. 

He smiles at her then at Abby. 

Octavia doesn’t complain but she can’t stop giggling from the moment he lifts her off the ground to the moment she runs off into the living room. 

Marcus looks down the hallway to see if Bellamy too is waiting for a kiss but it seems the boy has stayed away to avoid embarrassment. He shrugs and looks at Abby. 

“No Bellamy?”

“Guess that makes me next in line.” She smiles and reaches up to cup his cheeks before kissing him passionately. “I like your beard just fine as it is,” she says as she comes down from her tiptoes.

“So you wouldn’t rather have me shave it off?”

“No,” she warns him and grabs him by the jaw, “absolutely not.”

***

The presents have all been stuffed under the tree and the mess of dinner has been cleared (or rather been moved to the kitchen, but that’s chaos to be dealt with later) and everyone is gathered in the living room where furniture has been pushed out of the way to make room.

“Now, Marcus and I are gonna light the tree,” Abby stoops down to talk to the kids who are all too giddy to stand still. “Clarke, can you take Bell and Octavia to your room and wait there? We’ll come get you when it’s ready.”

The girl nods excitedly, knowing that it won’t be long now before her small hands get to tear into the colourful wrapping paper of her Christmas presents. 

“C’mon,” she says ceremoniously and grabs the younger Octavia by the hand leading her and her brother out of the living room. 

The kids have barely left the room before Abby hears the click of a lighter and Marcus lights the first white candle on the tree. “It’s not just the kids that are excited, huh?”

Marcus shrugs, feigning interest. “I just figured I’d begin with the top candles since you’re too short to reach them.” 

“I’m not,” she huffs indignantly and stands on her tippy toes stretching her arm as far as it’ll go in an attempt to prove her point. It doesn’t work.

She nearly loses her balance and topples the Christmas tree right over - at least that’s where it would’ve gone had Marcus not been quick to grab her by the waist and steady her before she ruined Christmas. 

“Thanks,” she says, relieved, but adds nothing more that could be seen as admitting defeat. 

“I’ll go get the kids,” Abby says once all the candles on the tree are lit. 

She can hear their excited voices even before she opens the door to Clarke’s bedroom: “I’m gonna get a horse!” “You’re not getting a horse O.” “But it’s the only thing on my Christmas list.” “Did you see a present shaped like a horse?” “If you get a horse can I try it?” When Abby opens the door, they all immediately fall silent, expectant.

“Can you take each other’s hands and be very silent?” Abby whispers. Clarke and Octavia nod and they each grab one of Bellamy’s hands. Abby gestures for them to follow her back to the living room.

The world is muted, hushed, until the moment their eyes fall on the shining tree and the anticipation rises again trading stunned silence for small gasps and excited whines. 

Abby and Marcus exchange smiles at their children’s apparent joy then take each other’s hand and join the kids in a circle around the tree. Hand in hand, the five of them walks around the tree, taking in its beauty and bright light in the middle of the winter darkness while singing a few Christmas psalms and songs. 

When they’ve all had the chance to pick a song they finish off by singing Silent Night and then settle down on the couch. All three kids immediately drop to the floor, reaching for the presents.

“One at a time,” Abby says. “You can pick one gift at a time and give it to the person it says on the card.”

They begin handing out the presents, Octavia running to either Abby or Marcus - whoever is closest - to get the card read out loud.

“Be careful with that, Clarke,” Marcus burst out when she pulled a small rectangular box out from underneath the tree. 

“It’s for my mom,” she reads.

“Yes,” he says smiling at Abby as she takes the gift from her daughter’s now extremely gentle hands.

“Thank you.” She smiles as her daughter quickly returns to find another present.

“Who gets this one?” Clarke asks struggling to grab a big, square box. Her eyes are shining, clearly hoping it’s for her. “To Octavia...” she reads the name on the card slowly. 

The young girl is by her side the moment she hears her name. “Mine?”

“Yes, ‘To Octavia, From Dad’,” Clarke reads aloud with no small amount of disappointment.

“Thanks, dad!” The girl says but doesn’t offer Marcus a single glance, completely transfixed by getting the biggest gift under the tree.

“This one is for you Clarke,” Bellamy says in an attempt to lighten her somewhat soured mood. He hands her a very flat present that, to a girl of seven years, doesn’t look remotely exciting compared to Octavia’s, but she takes it anyway. 

“That was the last one,” Bellamy announces. “Can we open the presents now?” He tries hard to seem disinterested, but the anticipation is clear in his eyes.

“Yes,” Marcus says, “but how about you three take turns to open a gift?”

“What about you and mom?” Clarke asks.

“We can wait,” Abby reassures, proud of her daughter’s concern for others.

Octavia is the first to open one of her presents because there’s no hope of keeping her from tearing the paper from her big present for one minute longer. Once the paper is thrown halfway across the room she pulls the lid off to reveal tons of newspaper pages crumbled up and stuffed in the box. She looks up at Marcus, confused.

He gives her an encouraging nod. “Try looking a little harder.”

Her small hands disappear in between the pieces of paper and with a thrilled squeal, she pulls a horse figurine out of the box. One more soon follows and then another and another until she’s got a sizable ranch’s worth of miniature horses. 

“There are so many!” Her eyes are shining with excitement. “Do I have enough small ones to make a big horse now?”  She looks at her dad, hopeful, and to Marcus’ credit he doesn’t betray his amusement by much more than a tug at the corner of his lips - that much cant’ be said for Abby, though, who quickly stifles her laughter into Marcus’ shoulder.

“I’m afraid that’s not how that works, darling,” he says tenderly much to Octavia’s disappointment. But her disappointment doesn’t last long - she’s got a box full of new horses to play with!

Abby and Marcus sit back and let the kids open the rest of their gifts. Abby earns a wide smile from Bellamy and Clarke even gets a hug when he opens their present to him: A LEGO Millenium Falcon because he hasn’t stopped talking about Star Wars since Marcus’ showed him the first three movies last month.

“To Clarke, From Marcus, Bellamy & Octavia,” Clarke reads on the card of her last present - the not very exciting-looking flat one - but Marcus stops her before she can open the gift.

“Maybe you and Bellamy should open your last gifts at the same time?” he suggests gesturing to Bellamy’s identical one.

They set to work on the wrapping paper and before long they sit on the floor with two pieces of paper, similar but not quite. It takes them a moment to figure out to put the two pieces together but then it becomes obvious what it’s meant for.

“It’s a treasure hunt!” They exclaim simultaneously and off they go, running out of the living room.

Abby shakes her head at Marcus in disbelief. “You’ve really gone out of your way with these presents.” She pauses, giving his hand a squeeze. “Thank you.”

His lips curl in a soft smile which widens when Clarke and Bellamy come running into the living room again with paper clues in their hands.

“They’re in the garage! The clues say they’re in the garage!”

“Well then,” Marcus says. “Let’s go see what’s out there.”

Octavia - who’s been devoting all her attention to her horses - even gets up to follow and see what’s going on.

“Is it this?” Bellamy asks pointing at a big white sheet covering  _ something _ . 

Marcus nods.

“A bike?!”

“A real painting holder!”

Their eyes widen when the presents are revealed; a new bike for Bellamy and a kid-sized easel for Clarke that looks suspiciously homemade to Abby’s surprise.

“Thank you!” Bellamy struggles between keeping his hands on his new bike or giving Marcus a hug but ultimately settles on the latter when Clarke throws her arms around him. 

With her hand in Octavia’s Abby watches Marcus get practically tackled by the two older kids and she can’t help but smile. 

With the last of their presents opened, Clarke, Bellamy, and Octavia find their interest diverted elsewhere and are eager to return to play with their gifts. 

“Clarke, sweetie?” Abby beckons before her daughter buries herself in the new set of art supplies she’s gotten. Abby pulls out a small box that hadn’t been under the tree and hands it carefully to her daughter. “There’s one more gift for you, but you have to promise to be really careful with it, okay?”

Clarke nods, understanding that this is serious from her mother’s tone of voice. She turns the card first and reads  _ To Clarke, From dad. _ Confused, she looks at her mother, then briefly towards Marcus.

“No,” Abby answers the question on her face. “No, it’s from  _ your _ dad.”

Clarke is quiet and careful as instructed when she opens the box. Inside lies a faded gold pocket watch, the name  _ Griffin _ engraved along the bottom. 

“Your father got it from his dad when he was young like you. I’m sure he’d want you to have it now.” Abby talks when Clarke doesn’t, the girl just stares at the watch, her eyes rimmed with tears.

Clarke takes the watch out into her hands and climbs unto her mother’s lap. Abby feels her daughter’s tears on her shoulder, though her small body is completely still.

“He’s so sorry that he had to leave us,” Abby whispers as she rubs her daughter’s back and tries to fight back her own tears though she knows it’s no use. 

It has been only a little more than two years since her husband's death and Christmas last year had been soaked in grief and loneliness but this year had been different. Seeing her daughter today, so happy and unworried and feeling lighter herself too, Abby had wanted Jake to be a part of this as well. The watch had practically presented itself to her a couple of days ago and now here they are; happy despite everything, and keeping his memory alive.

Something wraps around the hand that isn’t caressing Clarke’s back and Abby looks up.

A smile from Marcus, silent support in the form of a squeeze of her hand, and she has never loved him more.

“My dad can be your dad too,” Octavia chimes in like it’s the most obvious solution in the world. 

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifts and Abby finds herself chuckling. Clarke lifts her head and looks at Marcus again, this time her eyes linger as if deciding whether or not she’ll have him. 

He smiles, a little unsure about what to say or do but then she climbs from her mother’s lap onto his and gives him a hug too.

“Thank you for making me a painting holder,” Clarke mumbles into his shirt and yawns. 

“I’m glad you like it.” He disentangles his arms from the girl. “Maybe it’s time for bed now?” The blonde girl shakes her head no but another treacherous yawn forces its way out. As if infected, both Octavia and Bellamy yawn too.

“I think that’s a yes,” states Abby and goes to pick Octavia up.

“No,” the stubborn girl argues, “Not yet, my horses have to be tucked in!”

“They can come up to the room with you, okay? We’ll make the box into a nice bed for them.”

The girl is too tired to protest much more and lets Abby pick her and her horses up. 

“I’m not tired.”

“Yes, you are. The LEGO will still be there in the morning.” Marcus stops Bellamy before he can say anything more. “You’re going to bed too, mister.”

***

The kids finally sound asleep in their rooms - Bellamy in the guest room and Octavia in Clarke’s - the house is finally quiet. Abby and Marcus make their way back to their spot on the couch where their presents are still lying, waiting to be opened.

“You should start,” Abby says when they've settled back down.

“I can see that.” Marcus picks up the bigger of his two presents. “I thought we’d agreed on only one present for each other?”

Abby shrugs. “I couldn’t let the kids be the only ones to be spoiled a little,” she says with a smile. “Don’t worry, the second one wasn’t expensive.”

He opens the gift which turns out to be a scarf; big and soft and a deep, dark red.

“I figured you could use just a small bit of colour to go with your greyscale wardrobe.”

He chuckles. In his grey sweater and black pants, he isn’t really in a position to argue. “Thank you.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “Now, it’s your turn.”

He looks almost nervous as she slowly opens the present.

Abby is silent for a moment, just a quiet gasp escapes her. “Marcus it’s beautiful! Where-”

“It was my mother’s,” he explains as she runs a delicate finger over the necklace’s tree-shaped pendant.

“I can’t take this,” she begins to object. It’s gold with delicately formed branches and at the heart of the tree rests a small but definitely genuine emerald. “It’s too much, Marcus. I can’t-”

“I want you to have it.” He closes her and around the rectangular box with his own. “My mother always told me that I had to be certain when I gave this away.” He looks at her, brown eyes looking so deeply into her own. “Abby, I’ve never been more certain about anything in my entire life.” 

And what’s she supposed to say to that? Maybe she should just kiss him but instead, her mouth opens and she speaks: “You haven’t opened your last present.”

Her words come even as a surprise to her, but he does at she says and reaches for the small square box. Clumsy fingers untie the ribbon and lift the lid off to reveal a single key inside.

“A key?”

“It’s to the house,” she explains.

“But I already have one?” He asks, confused.

“I know, but maybe this could be the only key you had?” She pauses, admonishing herself for her awkward phrasing. “I was wondering... You said it yourself, the kids like it here so I thought maybe you’d want to stay, to live here? Bellamy can get his own room and-”

“Abby,” Marcus interrupts her rambling. “You don’t have to waste time trying to convince me.” He smiles and reaches for her cheek. “You’re already my home.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“That’s a yes,” he echoes and gets up from the couch.

“What are you doing?” Abby asks. 

“Celebrating.” With a huge grin on his face, he turns the stereo on and the first notes of  _ I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus  _ fill the living room. 

“Marcus the kids!” She scrambles up to turn the volume down before the cavalry wakes up.

“Happy now?” He changes the song to the softer tones of  _ Silent Night  _ drift from the speakers. “Come here.” 

He holds his arm out for her to take and soon he’s holding her to his chest, rocking back and forth in a not-quite dance. 

“I am. Happy, I mean.” She pulls back slightly so she can tangle her fingers in his hair pulling him down for a kiss. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”


End file.
